


Proud

by WinterfellStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterfellStark/pseuds/WinterfellStark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small town Sansa goes to Pride. Things are different in the capital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud

Sweat covers her skin, it glistens under the lights of the club, but such a trivial thing doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, which means that she doesn’t care when she’s dancing the night away. She feels the bass, her whole body vibrates with it, she feels it _inside_ , and it feels good, so so good. One song ends, the next one begins. She doesn’t care, she feels like any song will be a good song because she’s radiating happiness. Except she does care, which is the reason why she lets out a happy yell when one of her favorite songs starts to play. She cheers, along with a few other girls in the club, gods, it’s so exciting! They all dance to their own beat, she doesn’t feel judged for not keeping the same rhythm, nor because her way of dancing is different than theirs. She feels like no one cares about what she does as long as she’s doing what she wants. Or maybe that’s just that the way she feels, projecting on others. Whatever it is, it works. She’s happier than she’s been in a while.

Sansa laughs as she takes everything in. The music, the lights, the rainbow flags hanging from the walls, the girls who dance with other girls, and the girls who kiss other girls. It’s like a dream, except she’s fully awake. There’s a difference from knowing that she wasn’t alone, to actually _seeing_ that she’s not. It’s normal then, that her natural reaction to this is to laugh. She’s found her people, at last, and she’s going to celebrate, she’s going to revel in the feeling for as long as her body will let her. 

She runs her fingers through her hair, it’s sticking to her forehead, it sure looks messy… but again, who cares? She chuckles again, this would have never happened back home, where girls needed to look spotless so the boys would look at them. Her laugh catches in her throat while she’s scanning the room (something she can’t help because she’s in awe of her surroundings). The reason for the interruption is actually a girl, of course it is a girl. 

Said girl is sitting by the bar and she’s looking directly at Sansa with this catlike smile that could melt all the snow in the north… and more importantly, a smile that can make Sansa’s legs feel all wobbly. 

Her dance moves slow down, how can she focus on the music, and on moving her limbs accordingly, when the eyes of this gorgeous girl are on her? Just to make sure, Sansa looks around, she doesn’t want to make the mistake of thinking that the girl is looking at her only to realize that there’s someone else behind her. But no, she realizes with surprise, there’s no one else who’s looking at the girl. When she glances back at her, she’s laughing as if she finds it amusing that Sansa’s making sure. Sansa smiles back at her and shrugs, hoping that her “sorry, I just needed to check” message gets through. 

Her eyes are fixated on the girl, who finishes her drink in one long gulp before she puts the glass on the bar. Then, and only then, she gets up from the stool in one swift move. Sansa’s heart skips a beat and the girl’s eyes find Sansa’s again. Good gods. It’s not electricity that she feels, it’s warmth all over her body. If she’s blushing then she’s glad that the lights in the club are so dim that no one can notice it. The girl walks towards her and Sansa just waits. She stops dancing altogether, she doesn’t understand how the rest of the world hasn’t stopped as well, really. She waits, expectant. There couldn’t be more than a few meters between her and the bar, but they sure seem to be the longest meters in the world. 

At last, she’s in front of her. It’s been less than a minute since they exchanged the first look and yet it feels like it’s been a long time coming. Sansa can’t really see what color the girl’s eyes are, but she imagines them as green. Or turquoise, something like that. The girl looks like she’d have that kind of eyes, clear and intense. Sansa holds her breath as if anything could break the spell, as if the girl could disappear if she were to make a sudden movement. She stands still, like a deer caught in the headlights.

The girl leans in to whisper in her ear. “Hey, stranger.” 

It’s crazy how an overused line makes her feel, she thinks. But the girl’s breath is cold in contrast with the warmth of the club, and the fact that she’s been brave enough to walk up to her, well… Sansa could have never done that. Besides, the way that she said it… like she wasn’t serious at all? Very sexy. 

“Hey yourself.” 

The music is already forgotten, the only thing she can hear now is her own heartbeat, it’s so fast because she’s been dancing, she tells herself. Not because that girl’s presence and attention is doing strange things to her. No, that can’t be it. The smile in her face turns into a grin and Sansa thinks that she must look very uncool. It’s just that… this is what she had hoped that would happen, but what she knew that she would never get. 

She has never been happier to be proven wrong. Now she just needs to figure out how to deal with the situation. _Please, don’t let me be awkward._

 

Six hours ago Sansa was a girl from the north, a girl that was too shy to tell her parents that the only reason why she wanted, no… _needed_ to visit the capital on that particular weekend was because she wanted to be part of the pride festival. Perhaps they already knew, they probably did, but they were sensible enough not to mention it. 

She was the girl who had so many hopes for the weekend, but she was also the girl who knew that she’d be back in the bus one day and a half later, with a backpack full of clothes and disappointments since none of what she had wished for had actually happened. She was the one who blushed the first time she saw a couple of half naked guys (maybe they weren’t even a couple, she thought later) making out in the middle of the street, a rainbow flag hanging from the pocket of one of them. She was the girl who joined the crowd in the parade thinking that she had never felt so out of place in her life, even though she loved to see all that array of gay girls, girls who seemed to be happy and comfortable in their own skin, unlike Sansa. Everything felt strange, yet everything felt okay. She was a girl full of contradictions, it appeared.

She was, too, the one who in six different occasions almost left, to the safety of her hotel room. But she didn’t, she didn’t leave. She stayed because it was a once in a lifetime thing, even though there would be another pride next year. It felt like her one and only chance, if she blew it, there wouldn’t be a second opportunity. But if did this… she could do anything! 

Things improved once a group of girls took her in. They must have seen her with the “oh gods, what am I doing here?” expression on her face and kindly offered her the company she had needed. When the parade was almost over and it got too crowded and too warm they asked Sansa to join them in their next adventure: clubbing. “It’s more fun if you’re not alone” they said. Almost everything was more fun with the right company, Sansa thought. 

She took a couple of shots, a bright green liquid that burned her throat when she drank them in a single gulp each. The girls with her cheered, she felt brave. The pretty bartender had recommended that drink to her (“It’s wildfire, baby. Seems like you’ll need it.”) Whether it was the alcohol in her veins, or the thought of the alcohol in her veins, was yet to be determined, but it sure gave Sansa the courage she had lacked before. Her inhibitions were lost, she danced with the other girls like she was free of worries, like she wasn’t that shy girl who got off the bus all anxious about what the weekend would be like. 

In that moment she was the person she had always hoped she could be. 

 

Still dancing to the music, Sansa thinks of the fact that she’s in a “girls only” club. Something about it makes it thrilling, there’s nothing like that back at home. She can get used to it, she knows. She can get used to the girls dancing together, kissing without hiding, laughing and hanging out as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. To them, it probably is. They are free to do whatever they want to do, free to be with whoever they want to be. There’s no judgement in a place like that, there are just people being themselves… and Sansa knows she’s found home. Oh, also… the fact that there’s an extremely beautiful and sexy girl dancing with her sure helps, too.

Her body moves in synch with the girl whose name she still doesn’t know. They’ve been dancing for… who knows? she’s lost track of time. The thing is, she hasn’t asked her. What’s in a name, really? Knowing hers is not as important as knowing how warm her skin feels against her own whenever they’re dancing so close that their bodies meet, or knowing how soft and firm her touch is when she places her fingers on her hips, making them sway the way she wants them to. A name is just a name, but Sansa knows now that the faint smell she couldn’t identify before, she recognizes it now at last. It’s definitely, _definitely_ coconut. And that matters. A name, after all, doesn’t tell Sansa much. Everyone has one, anyone can lie about it. But the girl in front of her, who smiles as if she knows a secret that no one else does, she can’t fake how her touch feels like, or the coconut scent, or the way that her smile makes Sansa feel like anything is possible. 

“You’re not from here.” It’s not a question, she’s just stating a fact. 

Sansa shakes her head. Her movements becoming momentarily clumsy as she wonders “is it that obvious?” She doesn’t look much different from the other girls in the club, does she? How can she know? 

“Let me guess.” The girl gives a step back and looks her up and down, Sansa wishes she hadn’t because she wants to feel her close again. “You’re a northerner, aren’t you?” 

_Shit_. She hopes she doesn’t look too shocked, but she is, she’s quite shocked in fact. Again, is it _that_ obvious? The girl laughs, of course she does. See, she does know things that are unknown to the rest of the girls in the club. How does she do it? 

“Wow, I’m good!” She leans in again, so close that her chin touches Sansa’s. “Don’t worry, it’s not blatantly obvious.” 

Sansa shrugs, because how can she not worry? She wanted to forget about her life before, she wanted to _be_ , just her, no past, no future. Just her living the now. 

“It’s the necklace that gave it away.” The girl adds, promptly. 

The necklace? Sansa brings her hand to her chest, she feels the piece of metal that hangs from the black string and chuckles at the realization. 

“Isn’t that a direwolf, one of the old sigils from the north?” 

“Yes.” Sansa nods, beaming. A weight lifts off her chest. It’s not her, after all. She just happened to bump into a smart girl, which makes Sansa like her even more. “Yes, it is.”

With a shake of her head, the girl brings the conversation to an end and pulls Sansa closer. She’s okay with it, it seems like Sansa communicates better dancing than she does with words. Her body seems to agree with her, it responds to the music and to the other girl’s movements with a care that Sansa didn’t know she was capable of. 

She’s pleasantly surprised when the girl puts her arm around Sansa’s shoulders. They’re impossibly close and Sansa wants this to go on forever. How long will it last? That’s the question she can’t help but ask herself. (Too little. That’s the answer she’s afraid of.) 

In one of those rare moments where a new song is starting and it’s not super loud yet the girl talks again. 

“I’m Margaery, by the way.”

There it is, the name. And even if it’s not important, Sansa smiles. 

“Sansa.” She replies simply. It gets hard to focus on words when the girl’s lips are so close. 

She hums. “Never heard it before. A gorgeous name… for a gorgeous girl.” 

Sansa laughs and the girl — no, not “the girl”, Margaery… _Margaery_ laughs too, is she trying the corniest pick up lines on her? Is that it? 

“Let’s draw a veil over that,” Sansa says, feeling bold. “Your name is nice too, anyway.” 

Margaery scoffs, her voice getting louder as the music roars again. “Don’t bother, we both know it’s horrible.” 

“It’s not!” Sansa says, defensively. And then she adds a bit quieter, “It really isn’t.” 

“Well, Sansa… At least one of us thinks so!” 

With a smile, Margaery, the beautiful Margaery (she can’t stop saying her name in her head) puts one of her hands behind Sansa’s neck. Her fingers start to caress her nape, a delicate and intimate touch that Sansa didn’t expect in that situation. She closes her eyes for a second and smiles. How can something feel as good when she doesn’t know much of the girl? 

There’s no warning like in the books, Margaery doesn’t say “I’m going to kiss you”, she just does. One moment they were just dancing and an instant later Margaery’s lips are on hers, pressing softly at first, waiting for her response. Sansa doesn’t believe in the old gods, not really, but she knows that what she feels in that moment must be one of the reasons why people pray and thank them. She places her arms around Margaery’s waist and tilts her head slightly. When they kiss again it’s not just a peck, her lips catch Margaery’s bottom one between them, she bites it playfully before Margaery takes the lead again, deepening the kiss, tracing Sansa’s lips softly with the tip of her tongue. And now Sansa knows something else about Margaery, she knows that she tastes like alcohol and strawberry. 

There are many women around, Sansa’s kind of aware. In any other occasion she would have found this to be extremely awkward, she would have become shy. But not tonight, tonight she doesn’t mind. Even if it is a small crowd, it’s a crowd after all and she’s okay kissing Margaery in the middle of it. In fact, she feels more than okay. When she has every curve of Margaery’s body pressing against her own, how can she _not_ be happy? She moans in her lips when Margaery’s hands travel to her lower back stopping just a second only to start tracing the contour of her jeans. She thinks she hears Margaery mutter something like “fuck”, but she’s not sure. The music’s too loud (although she barely hears it), their voices get lost in it. Still, even if she can’t hear Margaery… she’s got four other senses. And those are very _alert_ of everything that’s going on between them. 

When they stop kissing, because they do need to get some air, they don’t move away from each other, not much. That’s what Sansa appreciates the most, the feeling of closeness that she’s getting from that girl. She doesn’t believe in second lives, but she does think that Margaery’s less of a stranger than the girls she met earlier that day. They smile and laugh, their foreheads touching. Margaery drags her thumb across her lower lip before she kisses Sansa again. She gets goosebumps, how silly is that? The next time they break the kiss to catch their breath again, Margaery takes her hand and leads her to a corner, seeking for a little bit more of privacy. The dance floor was okay for a while, but Sansa is sure to get away from it. 

Margaery is slightly shorter than Sansa, a fact that doesn’t stop her from pinning her against the wall. Sansa sighs when one of Margaery’s hands caresses her neck, while the other grabs Sansa by one of the belt loops of her jeans, pulling on it, bringing her hips closer, if that was even possible. 

Sansa laughs, she actually laughs when she realizes what’s going on, what’s happening for real. She’s making out with a stranger in a club. A stranger. In a club! That’s the kind of thing she’s always fantasized about, because the idea was so foreign to her, so unlikely to happen in her town… but there she is. A small town girl doing “wild” things in the capital. Gods, it’s such a cliché it hurts. 

Margaery doesn’t seem to mind that she’s laughing. Her eyes gleam when they find Sansa’s. 

“You’re gorgeous when you laugh, Sansa.” She says, and Sansa doesn’t think she’s joking this time. 

Sansa wants to tell her that no, she’s not. Not in comparison with her, because she’s sexy and beautiful and everything she dreamt of. And clever, she can’t forget how clever Margaery seems to be. She doesn’t say a thing, though, because anything that she can come up with sounds rather stupid in her head. 

She closes the gap between them, instead, her mouth finding Margaery’s once again. They are starting to know each other in that way, now. Their kisses are getting better, less… clumsy. They’re learning what each other likes and it’s wonderful, it really is. Who would have known that they could say so much, without saying anything at all? 

Margaery breaks the kiss, her breath is heavy and hot against Sansa’s neck. A moment later, she runs her fingers through Sansa’s hair and bites her lip. 

“Do you… Do you want to get out of here, Sansa? My apartment’s close. As in… two minutes close.” 

She’s glad that she can gasp and pretend it’s just her trying to catch some hair. Sansa looks around, trying to find a sign that will tell her what to do. Does she want to go? Of course she wants to go. Isn’t that what she was hoping that would happen? Wasn’t she looking for adventures that weekend? Something that she could tell to her friends back at home? Well, there it is. The adventure is calling, it’s _right_ there, in the form of a girl who’s slightly out of breath, her hair a little bit disheveled (that’d be Sansa’s fault) and who couldn’t look prettier even if she tried. Sansa just needs to answer. 

Deep breaths. She summons the courage she needs and, at last, she replies. “That… that’d be nice.” 

Margaery beams. “Lovely.” 

Sansa kisses her one last time before they leave. She needs to remember why she agreed to go with her, why she’s willing to go to a stranger’s apartment. When they finally break the kiss, she knows exactly why. Because the way that she feels when Margaery’s lips are on hers is like nothing she’s ever felt before. Shouldn’t that be enough? Exactly. 

As they leave, she notices the knowing smiles on the faces of some girls. They must know what they’re doing, what’s about to happen… This must happen all the time here, in the land of possibilities. Sansa takes everything in, yet again, she wants to feel it all, the realization of how much easier life seems to be here. 

Too bad she’s got less than 24 hours left. 

 

Sansa can’t sleep. Partly because it’s not her bed but mainly because she’s not alone in it. She has her eyes closed and she’s simply letting her head process everything. Margaery dozed off pretty quickly once they were completely sated (and that took them long enough! Sansa thinks, blushing at the mere thought). Even if she’s actually sharing the bed with the other girl, she’s practically alone. The only thing that reminds Sansa that she’s not is Margaery’s even breath, so peaceful, calm… too bad Sansa’s thoughts are in turmoil. She’s never done that, she’s never gone to a stranger’s place. She’s never believed in _that_. She was a girl who believed in falling in love with the right person, not in meeting strangers at a bar! 

She opens her eyes, she wants to look at Margaery again (but not in a creepy way), it’s the best way she has to remind herself why she did it. Her hair is sprawled on the pillow, her neck exposed, then her naked shoulder… and then a very annoying blanket, covering all the places that Sansa had access to, not so long ago. Maybe it’s not how the stories say that you’re supposed to do this, but that doesn’t mean that what she did wasn’t right. Looking at Margaery, she doesn’t regret it one bit… At least for a minute, until the other part of her brain takes over yet again and starts yelling “but you don’t know her!” That’s the never ending cycle that her brain’s got into. One part of her defends it, the other judges her for it. Rinse and repeat. No wonder she can’t sleep. 

She opens her eyes when she feels something touching her shoulder. She squints, the room’s too bright and she closes them again. Sansa groans, what’s happening? She feels it again, the touch on her shoulder. She opens one eye. The touch turns out to be small kisses that Margaery’s planting on her skin. Margaery, who looks at her the moment she realizes that she’s awake, planting one last kiss on Sansa’s shoulder before she allows herself to grin. Sansa smiles back, but it’s a lazy smile, an I-just-woke-up one. She’s happy to know that she was somehow right about the color of Margery’s eyes. They’re the bluest eyes she’s seen. 

“Morning…” Margaery says, purring as she lets her chin rest on Sansa’s shoulder. 

Stifling a yawn she looks around, processing everything. The last thing she remembers was a dark room… Which can only mean one thing, she fell asleep at some point. 

“Hi…” 

Ah, the awkwardness. Sansa was expecting it, but she didn’t know that she would be the only one feeling it. The girl seems to be completely content with the state of things. Margaery’s fingers toy with Sansa’s, and Sansa bites her lip because she doesn’t know how to act around the other girl. 

“What time is it?” Sansa mutters. 

Margaery takes a look at her phone. “Not quite eleven.” 

Sansa sits up, alarmed, forcing Margaery to roll over. She told her parents that she’d call them in the morning, they must be worried! 

“I have to go.” 

Then she realizes that she’s completely naked, her plan to get dressed before Margaery woke up backfired and now she’s… well, there’s not going back now. She covers her chest with her arms, her cheeks burning. 

“Too late for that, don’t you think?” Margaery winks at her playfully. 

Sansa looks at her, shocked. “Sorry, I just —” 

“No, no. No need to explain yourself, Sansa. I was joking.” Margaery puts a hand on her knee. “You take things too seriously, huh?” 

Sansa purses her lips and looks for her clothes, which are all over the room. Good gods, why couldn’t she had been more organized last night? 

“I really need to go, though.” 

“Sweet Sansa, you’re breaking my heart.” Margaery says, dramatically. 

Sansa laughs awkwardly, the tension of the room starts to disappear and she thanks the other girl internally. “I’m really not…” 

The girl grins as she stretches on the bed, her eyes never leaving Sansa’s. She knows that she’s not getting anything broken, but it’s an easy lie. And maybe some girls do believe it. Maybe other girls are flattered by it. Sansa… she just finds it amusing, in the best way possible. She likes that about Margaery, how she doesn’t take things as seriously as she does. And her voice, so sultry… how can she not like her? She might have done crazy things in the past few hours, but she’s not a crazy person. 

“Will you give me your number? Can I at least get that?” Her tone isn’t playful anymore, she seems to be concerned about it. 

Sansa bites her lip. One thing was to sleep with Margaery, another is to exchange numbers. What’s the purpose of that, really? She doesn’t live in the city and she’s not even out to her family… she’d be risking a lot, if they keep in touch. Someone might find out before she’s ready. 

“I… I don’t know if I should.” Sansa frowns. The worst part is knowing that she’s fighting against herself.

Margaery arches an eyebrow. “Come on, it’s just a number.” 

Sansa thinks about it while she gets up to retrieve her clothes as quickly as possible. The thought of how she’s about to take the walk of shame makes her smile, it’s crazy. Everything that has happened in the past few hours is nothing like Sansa’s used to be, yet it feels incredible. 

“So?” Margaery asks again, while she hands Sansa her t-shirt. Sansa averts her eyes because the other girl’s still naked, a fact that doesn’t seem to bother her at all. “I want to see you again.” 

It takes Sansa a few seconds to think about it. She’s not sure about how to proceed, she’s never been in that position before… but then a new plan starts to form in her head. She smiles. 

“I’ll tell you what,” she starts, and Margaery tilts her head, visibly interested. “I’ll give it to you tonight.” 

Margaery’s forehead burrows, until she realizes what Sansa’s implying. “Ah, but how will I find you tonight if I don’t have your number?” 

Sansa smiles shyly. “That’s the thing. If it was meant to happen… you’ll find me again.” 

Margaery laughs as she shakes her head. “Very Serendipity of you.” 

She squints at Sansa, trying to figure out whether she’s joking or not. When she realizes that she’s actually serious, she doesn’t push the subject. Sansa’s grateful for that. It’s hard enough as it is. 

Margaery puts on an oversized tee and watches Sansa while she gets her stuff. She doesn’t say anything, she just sits there, observing. When Sansa looks at her, there’s something in Margaery’s eyes that she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t seem sad, because why would she be, really? Sansa’s just a one night stand… no need to get all dramatic over her; but Margaery doesn’t look happy either. She’s sitting there all contemplative, Sansa wants nothing more than to go to her, kiss her properly and hope to see her as happy as she was the night before. 

But Sansa knows better than to do that, if she wants to follow through with her plan.. She finishes getting ready and leaves with an awkward wave and an even more awkward reminder of how they’ll see each other that evening. 

When the door closes behind her, Sansa feels like she’s making a big mistake. A huge one, actually. She really, _really_ likes Margaery. She should turn around, knock on the door and ask for her number. In fact, she should take her out, they could have breakfast together and then they could make plans for the night. Or better yet, she should knock, kiss Margaery as soon as she opened the room and then take her to the room, where they would be for the rest of the day. Because, for them? There’s no tomorrow. 

That’s what she could do if she would just turn around and knocked on the door. It would be easy, it’s just a knock after all. But Sansa doesn’t do it. It takes all the strength in her to keep walking away, no turning back. She’ll wait. And hope. Yes, she’ll hope. There will be thousands of people out in a few hours… the odds don’t look too promising, but Margaery found her once, didn’t she? 

She’ll find her again.

**Author's Note:**

> I caught this plot bunny a few days ago and... here's the result *pets the bunny* :)


End file.
